My Patchwork Quilt
by secretfanficlover
Summary: Olympe Maxime loves sitting in the park watching the doves while she works on her quilting, and she meets a small girl that changes a lot about who she sees herself.


**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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Word Count: 787

Title: My Patchwork Quilt

Beta: ViolaMoon

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Golden Snitch

[Name] Crissie

[School] Uagadou

[House] Ogyinae

In Memoriam : Stan Lee- he was a legend in the comic book world, who created universes of heroes and villains. I consider him to be a "giant" in the industry. That is why I consider this as a tribute to his memory. Albeit a small one.

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Hogwarts

Assignment 1: Paleontology: Known Dinosaur Fossils: Task #4: Write about a 'gentle giant'.

Yearly:

Prompt 300 [Character] Olympe Maxime

Seasonally:

Days of the year: February 3rd - Feed the Birds Day: Include the action of sitting on a bench.

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Olympe was sitting on a bench, her eyes watching the children as they ran across the park, playing and laughing happily. She wondered if she would ever have children of her own. She sat there with a basket filled with scraps of fabric, taking out pieces carefully, then placing them back inside, shaking her head and muttering, "No, this is all wrong."

Then, when Olympe found one she liked, she would nod, and then take out a needle and thread it into the quilt in front of her. Which currently didn't look much like anything yet.

A small girl with blonde hair was looking at the doves and caught Olympe's attention. The doves were within reach of the giant women's chair, and she stuck her hand into a brown handbag, and took out a piece of bread.

The doves, as well as the girl, looked at the woman curiously. "Do you want to come and join me?" Olympe asked her, holding out a hand with the slice of bread.

"Hi," the girl greeted, eagerly sitting down beside her and holding out a hand.

"Hello, little one." She smiled broadly. She knew her size was intimidating to most, but this girl seemed more interested in the treasure she held in her hand to feed the birds.

"I'm Emma," she greeted, sitting down and holding out an eager hand for the bread.

"I'm Olympe, nice to meet you."

"What a pretty name." She smiled, breaking off a small piece in her hands and tossing it at their feet, and the doves came eagerly closer.

"Thank you," she replied, reaching for another piece of fabric.

"What's that?" Emma asked, distracted from the birds.

"It's my patchwork quilt," she smiled.

"Oh," Emma said. "Why does it have so many colours?"

Olympe grinned. "That is what patchwork means, you use little pieces of different cloth to create a blanket."

"That's clever, then you don't need to throw little bits away," she said softly.

"No, all the little bits can become another whole thing," she explained to the girl.

"Would you show me?" Emma asked.

"Of course."

"Maybe if I was useful, people wouldn't throw me away," Emma said, suddenly sounding much older than her age.

"Useful? Dear girl, you're only a child," Olympe replied.

Emma nodded, tossing another piece of bread to the doves. "Dad says I'm useless," she commented, her eyes focused on the birds.

"Never believe that," Olympe urged.

"Why not?" Emma asked.

"Because the world is like this quilt," she explained. "You might look like a piece of cloth, but everyone fits together, and we all have a purpose."

"Do you have a child?" Emma asked, looking around the park as if to spot one hiding behind a tree, the birds still pecking around while she dropped bits of bread.

"No, but I'm a teacher," she said with a smile.

"I wish you were my teacher," Emma commented.

"Why?" she asked the girl with a puzzled look.

"She isn't very nice," Emma admitted. "She lets the other children be mean to me because I'm different."

"Being different isn't so bad," Olympe said to her suddenly.

Emma's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Of course, I'm different," Olympe said, pointing to her size.

"You're tall and pretty," Emma said sweetly.

"Thank you, you are very pretty as well."

"I'm strange," Emma shrugged.

"How?" Olympe asked. She wondered if the little girl might be showing signs of being a witch. Her parent and teacher found her odd. It was possible.

"Dad doesn't want me to say," Emma said, suddenly shy.

"What if I guess?" Olympe encouraged.

"That would be okay," Emma said.

"Can you do things nobody else can?"

Emma's eyes went wide, and she nodded.

"Can you make objects move without touching them?"

Again, she nodded.

"Am I a superhero?" Emma asked.

Olympe laughed. "Maybe, or maybe you could be a witch."

"Are witches evil?" Emma shuddered.

"No dear," she said. "I'm one, do I look evil?"

"No," Emma paused. "You have kind eyes."

"Exactly, having magic doesn't make you good or bad, it's about how you use those talents."

"So I could be a superhero then?" Emma said.

"You can be anything you want to if you set your mind to it," Olympe encouraged. "Next time, I'll tell you about a wizard that saved the world from the biggest bad guy the world has ever seen."

"I'd like that." She smiled. "That's my dad." She pointed at the blue car, and started towards it.

When Emma reached the car, she waved goodbye to Olympe from far away, before getting into the blue car.

She sighed, hoping that Emma would be back sometime, she really thought the girl could use more encouragement.


End file.
